


Ninth Inning

by mystrangedarkson



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, and they're all gonna be Gay, because i am and nothing in the world could make me write straight people, i'm gonna change that, implied sex, yes i know there are 0 greg/reader fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystrangedarkson/pseuds/mystrangedarkson
Summary: You only have one night left in this shitty suburb of the shittiest city of them all. You just want a drink and to watch a baseball game. The bartender being hot as hell is just a bonus.
Relationships: Greg Serrano/Male Reader, Greg Serrano/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Ninth Inning

You walked into Home Base with a sigh, pushing past a half dozen kids in baseball uniforms as you made your way to the bar. You certainly didn't want to be here, but it was the only place in town that got the right sports channel. _Fucking hell, LA can't even get sports bars right. This isn't even LA, though. Fucking suburb. One more night, that's all. Then I'm on a flight back home._

You took a seat at the bar and noticed that you'd missed the first inning. Fuck LA traffic. You were too focused on catching up to notice the bartender make his way over to you. 

"What can I get you?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth in a way that gave you little gay butterflies.

"Oh, um, can I get a-" you finally looked at him, and your mind went blank. He was beautiful, in a very cynical sort of way. You'd seen his type before, guys with a chip on their shoulder who run on sarcasm and self-deprecation and get away with it, because they're hot. Which is to say, exactly your type. "An Old Fashioned, please?"

"You got it. You from around here? I haven't seen you in here before," he asked while making your drink.

"Nope. Just here for a work thing. It's my last night in town, actually, and I figured I'll need a drink or two if I'm gonna watch the Giants game this deep in Dodger territory." He handed you the drink, and you raised it to him, a silent toast of thanks. It was perfect, far better than you were honestly expecting.

"Openly admitting to being a Giants fan down here is a ballsy move. You from the Bay Area?" there was a wistfulness in his voice you recognized- you had it, too, when you were stuck in your tiny home town.

"I'd wager that I'm pretty safe from rivalry-related trouble here, given how many children are around. And yeah, I was born and raised in a tiny town just outside San Francisco. It's not very different from West Covina, actually, just 40 thousand people smaller and on the beach."

He chuckled. "So, not like West Covina at all."

"I dunno. A small suburb is a small suburb is a small suburb. The culture's the same, wherever it is. Everyone knows everyone, and it's easy to end up feeling stuck. Sorry, I'm sure you have no interest in my philosophical thoughts on suburbia. I'll shut up and stop holding you here." You rubbed the back of your neck with your hand and smiled apologetically. He returned the smile, and you prayed your blush wasn't as strong as it felt.

"No no, I totally get what you're saying. Enjoy your drink and the game. Maybe we'll talk more philosophy between innings." He winked before turning and walking away, and you fought back a literal giggle as you turned your attention to the game. You'd missed another half-inning. Oops.

~

True to his word, which you reminded yourself was just good customer service, he came back around a few times, and you chatted a bit more about baseball and suburbia. After the 6th, with the Giants down by 4, you ordered another Old Fashioned. 

"Not to overstep, but are you sure? You're already looking pretty toasted, and I don't want to have to take your keys."

"Oh no need to worry there. I took a Lyft here, because I knew that there was a chance I'd be watching the Giants lose in Dodger territory, and that's something that requires significant intoxication. The only thing worse than LA in general, including its 'burbs, is LA sports fans, especially baseball. Polo shirt over there", you gestured to a guy on the other side of the bar, "made me as a Giants fan a couple innings ago. I've been getting smug face every out since. Drunk me doesn't care enough to do anything about it. Sober me would have called him out already and listed off half a dozen statistics that back up the Giants being the more successful franchise. Really, I'm doing everyone a favor by drinking my anxiety away." You gave him your best innocent look, and he laughed.

"One Old Fashioned coming right up, then, for the greater good." 

He handed it to you, and you toasted again. "To the greater good". You took a sip. "Seriously, you make a fantastic Old Fashioned. Total honesty, walking in here earlier, I wasn't expecting a drink this great." You paused before mumbling "or a bartender this hot".

"I'm glad you like the drinks, but, uh, what was that last part?" _Fuck._ "I'm so sorry. It's absolutely no excuse, of course, but as you've pointed out, I am quite tipsy. And you are, objectively, a very attractive man. I shouldn't have said anything at all, though. It was beyond inappropriate, and I am so, so sorry."

"It's alright, man. I wasn't offended, but I appreciate and accept your apology. Enjoy your drink and the rest of the game, yeah?" He leaned in a bit, and your breath caught in your throat. "I'll die denying that I said this, but tonight, I'm a Giants fan." He winked again and walked back to the kitchen.

You blinked a few times, trying to parse the flurry of thoughts in your head. They wouldn't solidify into anything coherent, though, so you took his advice and just watched the game.

It went one extra inning, but the Giants took home the win. You didn't see the bartender (you kicked yourself for not asking for his name or giving him yours) since putting your foot in your mouth, so you just shot Polo Shirt a smug look, left cash on the counter for your drinks and a 100% tip, and left the bar to wait for your Lyft.

"Wait, wait!" You heard his voice right as you reached the sidewalk. You turned around to see him running after you, holding the cash you left. "This is way more money than the price of your drinks."

"I know. But the drinks were fantastic, the conversation was great, and I wanted to apologize a bit more for objectifying you. Plus, they won, and I'm superstitious enough to think that someone who grew up in an LA suburb rooting for them helped." You smiled softly.

"Wait, how do you know I grew up here?"

"The look in your eyes and the tone in your voice when you asked if I'm from the Bay Area. I had the same tone and look for a very, very long time, back in my own little suburb. Anyway, my ride's about to get here. Please, keep all of the change. You deserve it. It was a pleasure meeting you, although that's a bit weird to say when I never got your name."

"Greg. My name is Greg. And, uh, I really didn't mind being objectified by you. You're… god, handsome as hell and smart and funny. And you're only here for one more night, so now is kind of my only chance. My shift just ended, do you wanna, I dunno, grab a drink somewhere else?" He talked with his hands a lot, which you found endlessly adorable.

"I- holy shit. Um. I really didn't think I stood a chance in hell with you, even if you were into men. We could go drink somewhere else, or we could go back to my hotel room and order room service? Like you said, it's my last night here. Just one night. No strings, no hesitations, no regrets." His body language changed as you spoke, from anxiety to pure desire, and as soon as you were done, in a blink of an eye, he was kissing you. Cliche as it was, the kiss felt like it tilted your universe off its axis. 

You broke the kiss with a slight gasp to tell him your name, but stayed in his arms. You couldn’t believe how beautiful his deep brown eyes were.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Wanna cancel your Lyft and tell me which hotel you're staying at?" 

You did just that, spurred in no small part by the breathlessness in his voice.

~

He insisted on driving you to the airport the next morning, saying that cabbies and Lyft drivers don't know what they're doing. You disagreed, but honestly the previous night was so much fun, both in bed and out, that you weren't quite willing to say goodbye until you had to. 

He gave you one last searing kiss before you walked into the airport, and as you boarded the plane, you figured that maybe LA wasn't so bad after all, and you were gonna miss that shitty little suburb.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shameless self-insert presented as an x reader. I make no apologies, and if you did read it, thank you so much. <3
> 
> I might write a sequel one-shot down the road, who knows. Stay tuned!


End file.
